Grease and Sweat and a Corvette
by artificiallysweet
Summary: Ok, well, the title really sums it up quite nicely. TATE fic. Oh how we do love the TATE. Oh, and Gibbs smells something 'Hinky'. Hmm, i wonder. LOL. R&R please.


DISCLAIMER: Yada yada yada yah. I do not own NCIS, don't think I ever will. But hey,pigs have flown. I think. They have haven't they? Catapult or something. I dunno. But anyways, I do however own the idea for this fic.

PS: I'm looking for a beta. So anyone interested Private Message me, or whatever.  


This is so wrong. No, wait! More like immoral. Wrong just isn't cutting it anymore.

Wrong defined that moment down in the storm water drains of Virginia, where Gibbs and I found that homicidal waitress holding you at gun point. After seeing us there, you managed to give her a rather obvious distraction, and get the upper hand and case-closed.

It wasn't until I came over to cuff that psychopath when I noticed your rather dirty and sweaty state. And honestly, I couldn't keep my eyes off you. You were covered in only God knows what, and as ashamed as I am to say it; it got me hot under the collar. I'd always found you attractive, not that your ego needs yet another boost, but that…was something else.

But this can only be described as immoral. It's twelve forty-something on a Saturday night, or Sunday morning, whichever way you say it, it doesn't matter cos it's way too early. Half an hour ago I got a rather rude mid-night wake up call from Gibbs, informing me to, and I quote 'drag my ass out of bed. And pick up DiNozzo. We've got a case'. I learned early on in the piece that subtlety wasn't really Gibbs' forte.

So half an hour later, I find myself on your doorstep very tired, very frustrated, and freezing my ass off.

I could use the key Gibbs gave me 'incase of emergency', but at running the risk of walking in on something, I chose not to.

I tried calling your mobile, but you didn't answer. Either you haven't got it on you, or you know why I'm calling and are choosing not to answer.

Five minutes have passed and I'm sick of standing out here in the cold. Fishing the key out of my bag, I finally find the key and step into the house, and damn it's warm.

Cautiously, I search every known room in the house. I've been here once before, and it seems as though you've cleaned up since then, or hired a maid. There's not a pizza box anywhere to be found. Which does surprise me, seeing as you live off the stuff. God knows how and what possesses you. You're like a coronary on feet.

Ok, so this IS weird. There are vegetables in your fridge. Last time I was here it was all rotten, molding take-away. And the odd bottle of beer. Now that I look harder, there a lot of vegetables in here. I'm starting to worry. This isn't the DiNozzo I know. Speaking of DiNozzo, where the hell are you? You're clearly not here unless you were hiding under the bed, which knowing you, is entirely possible, but not probable.

I pour myself a glass of water and wander my way around the lounge room, completely forgetting why I'm here in the first place. There's a massive Wide-Screen TV here. Big shocker. But the more interesting thing is the pictures you've got framed and hung all over the walls. They're pictures of the entire team. I had no idea you was so sentimental. Most of the pictures have been taken around crime scenes, where more often than not, you were supposed to be shooting the scene, not co-workers.

There's even the odd photo of Gibbs here. He's giving you his get-back-to-work-of-I'll-fire-your-ass look. But it's still a picture none the less. God knows how you managed to get it out of NCIS HQ without Gibbs destroying them.

There are so many of Abby, it kinda figures, she's the life of the party, and very photogenic. She's always got a smile on her face. She's like Gibbs' counterpart. He's perpetually grumpy, and never fun. She's perpetually fun, and never grumpy.

Then there's McGee. Most of his pictures are either half-existent, or you've flashed a light right in his eyes as you were taking the picture. Which is cruel beyond belief. But we know you mean well, even though you've got a twisted way of showing it.

There are even a few of Ducky, Palmer and Gerald. Minus the corpses of course. And a few other photos of other random people throughout the office: Pacci, the guy in the mail room, the 'hottie' from accounts, the director and his secretary Cynthia.

Then there's me. There must be something like 50 here. Each individually named like the others on your wall. There's 'Kate Pissed', 'Kate Annoyed', 'Kate Sleeping on the Job'. Making a mental note to take that one when I leave. 'Kate Eating', 'Kate Sleeping On the Floor'. That one too. 'Kate Laughing', 'Kate Arguing With Gibbs', 'Kate Wanting To Hit Me', 'Kate After Hitting Me', 'Kate Threatening To Permanently Damage My Manhood.' That one's officially may favourite.

I must admit its flattering, in a really creepy-stalker-ish sort of way that you've got so many pictures of me, and the rest of the team here. Like I said, very sentimental.  
Either that or you obviously have no taste in artwork what-so-ever, and nothing better to do with your time than hang pictures of co-workers on your wall.

Wandering back into the kitchen, I remember why I'm here. Gibbs'll call any minute demanding an explanation as to why we're not en route.

You must be here somewhere DiNozzo. Gibbs wouldn't have specifically sent me here if you knew you weren't home.

Peering out the window, I notice a light on in the back-yard somewhere, and the unmistakable sound of Nickelback coming from a shed. So that's where you are. I hope to God you're not building a boat in there. I know you idolize Gibbs. Why? I don't know, but building a boat, just like him, would be overkill.

I step back into the blistering cold, and make my way over to the shed. As I get closer, I can hear the music getting louder with every step. And you're singing along. Well, trying to the best of your ability anyway. Ha! I finally found you. It only took me all of 15 minutes. Hearing a loud thud and metal crashing to the ground, instinctively, I draw my gun, slowly turn the doorknob, and step inside. Seeing as your not being held prisoner or anything, I put my weapon back in its holster and move towards the CD player and turn it down. Significantly. I'm surprised you haven't blown the speakers.

"Hey! I was listening to that!" You complain, not even bothering to turn around to face me.

"With it that loud, you'll need a hearing-aid by the time you're 40."

"Katie." You get up from your slouched position under the hood of what's obviously a car and looks at me with that stupid grin plastered over your face, wrench in hand, and grease everywhere. "It's not music unless you can feel the rhythm pulsating through your body."

I'm not too sure it's the music, but there's something definitely pulsating through my body. "Oh?" Is all I manage, not trusting myself with anymore syllables.

I really didn't know what to expect when I turned up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, bearing the bad news of yet another late night/early morning call-out. A sleep deprived DiNozzo, or a preoccupied-with-another-woman-DiNozzo I prepared myself for. But this….this indefinable, sweet torture of seeing you clad in those trademark baggy jeans and a simple white tee, both covered in copious amount of grease and sweat, this I didn't prepare for.

"Something wrong, Katie?" You ask, wiping your brow with the back of your hand, leaving little grease tracks in its absence. I have to remind myself to breathe as you moves closer and closer and closer. "You look a little flushed."

"Nah, I'm good." Good girl Kate. Just keep using small words and you'll be fine.

"If you say so."

You're basically standing right in front of me now. Your body only inches away from my own. I kind of let out a small humming noise to confirm the conversation. In retrospect, it was more halfway between a hum and almost inaudible moan.  
Damn this man! He's standing so close that I can see him normally crystal clear emerald green eyes cloud over to an olive colour. You are in so, so deep Kate. Abby would have a field day with this.

"Something on your mind Katie?" You ask, and your voice drops to the closest thing to a purr.

At this particular moment? Only you, and how surprisingly turned on I am. "No."

Like I did before, you let out a questioning 'Hmm' as you lean into me, and I can feel your hot breath on my skin, your eyes never leaving mine for a second. I'm almost expecting you to kiss me. Subconsciously, I groan. If you were planning on kissing me, I wish you'd hurry up and do it already. What this man does to me is crazy.

Moments later, you pull back. I have the biggest urge to pull him back into me, just for the sake of it. But my conscious intervenes. I could only imagine what would happen if I did. Just the thought of it runs shivers down my spine. "What are you doing?" I ask.

Smirking, you step back. "I needed my spanner." You reply innocently.

Surely he must know the effect he has on me or he wouldn't be teasing me so uninhibitedly. But, this is DiNozzo we're talking about. Oh, who am I kidding? I want this man. Bad. More than I've ever wanted anyone else. I'm just 'procrastinating the inevitable' as Abby would say.

I follow him back over to the middle of the room and you disappear back under the hood. I lean on the side of the car, watching him intently. "I didn't know you knew your way around an engine."

"I used to work in a garage, before I got into the force. I figured if you're a rev-head, constantly pushing the cars' limits, you might as well know how to fix it when you break it." I can almost hear the smile in your voice. "And there's a lot you don't know about me."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

He thought for a minute. "Like I can tell what you're thinking."

"Really?" I ask. This ought to be amusing. "How?"

"Your eyes." You state as if it's common knowledge. I drop my head, remembering my conversation with Gibbs a little over 6 months ago.

"Eyes lie, Tony."

You look up into my eyes with a serious look on your face, one I'm not familiar with. "Not yours." And I actually believe you.

"Ok the Mr. Magnificent, what am I thinking?"

"Apart from the fact you're extremely skeptical about the whole mind-reading thing?"

I nod. It wouldn't take a psychic to figure that out. A 5 year old could have told you that.

"You're thinking about how bad you want me."

Bingo! "You wish."

"Face it Katie, you go it bad for me. I mean, I understand. You're a red-blooded woman, you're only human. You can't help it."

Typical full-of-himself-DiNozzo. I wondered how long it'd take him to show the side I know so well. "You're full of shit."

You looked hurt, and didn't appear to be faking it either. "So I guess that mean you don't want me?" You ask, moving infront of me, closer than the time before. "You don't want my lips on your neck?"

"Tony! What are…?" Oh God, he's good at that. "I hate you." I whisper after a moment or two, as I run a hand through his hair, the other one busy gripping something behind me to keep me steady.

I hear him mumble something along the lines of "I know," and I tilted my head back as his mouth continued to torment its way along my neck, and eventually his lips ended up hovering over mine. "Still hate me?"

"Ask me later." I say, and pull him into one hell of a kiss. The man's good. I'll give him that.

After realizing the severe lack of oxygen in our lungs, reluctantly we pull back.

"What about now?"

"You're going to have to do more than that to get back in my good books DiNozzo." I reply, coming back in for yet another breathtaking kiss while my hands worked to remove the shirt from his chest.

"That can be arranged."

0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0.0..0

More than a half an hour later, two greasy, sweaty and rather dishelved bodies lay across the hood of the Corvette.

"You still hate me?" Tony asked, flashing that devilish smile again.

"I'd say you're off the hook." I reply, as he leant over for a quick kiss.

"See! I told you you wanted me!"

0.0.0.0.0.0.

"Todd! DiNozzo! Where the HELL have you been? McGee's been doing both you jobs for you. You're lucky I don't consider giving him you're paychecks this month." Gibbs barked as we walked onto the crime scene.

I tried to think of a plausible excuse, but I couldn't think of one. I could hardly say 'Sorry boss. Grease and sweat got the better of me'. Not that he'd understand it.

"Sorry boss, I was working on the new 'Vette when Kate turned up. I made her wait while I cleaned up." Tony explained, as calm as he could be.

"Well, you missed a spot. Right…" THWACK! "…there."

"Ow! Boss, what was that for?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and looked at Tony. A common sight, but nerve-racking considering what just happened. After glancing a quick look over to me, he leant into Tony, and sniffed him.

"DiNozzo."

"Uh, yeah boss."

"Anything you wanna share?"

"Oh, no boss. Why'd you ask?"

"Cos you smell like sex."

.0.0.0.0.0.0..0.00.

THE END

Ok. I'd just like to state for the record. I don't know if you can smell sex. It's just, Gibbs knows everything right. So it kinda fitted in there. I know it was beyond weird. But hey, that's me for ya. Have I mentioned how much I love you guys who review? No? Well, I love ya's. Lots. And I do not love easily.

Lee


End file.
